White Rabbit

by London Miller

  Or when he had the gun aimed at the back of her head ...

  Karina came awake with a jolt, her chest heaving as her heart crashed against her ribs.

  Despite the lazy turn of the ceiling fan above her, a light sheen of sweat coated her, making the silk of her top and shorts cling to her skin.

  It had only been a dream. A figment of her own imagination, but that didn’t erase the feeling inside her.

  It certainly didn’t erase the way her hand was shaking as she lifted it to her chest. Or the way the anxiety made it hard to breathe.

  Karina couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a nightmare. Especially not one she had felt so strongly that it woke her up in a panic.

  Closing her eyes, she made a concentrated effort to ground herself in the present, to take deep, even breaths until it didn’t feel like she was seconds away from having a heart attack.

  By the time she did, she only felt more drained than she had before.

  “A shower,” she whispered to herself as she gingerly climbed out of bed. “I just need a shower.”

  After breakfast and a nice cup of coffee, Karina was not feeling nearly as awful as she had before, though she wouldn’t say she felt particularly good.

  But she wasn’t sure whether it was because of the dream she couldn’t shake, or if it was because work was keeping her up more.

  Whatever it was, she was ready for it to come to an end so she wouldn’t have to feel so bloody exhausted all the time.

  She wasn’t feeling like herself.

  A break was what she needed. Something to just take her mind off things if only so she would relax.

  Closing her laptop, she didn’t think twice about her decision as she dressed and ran a brush through her hair until the strands were smoothed before she tossed the length of it up into a high ponytail.

  As she ventured outside with her bag and keys in hand, she chanced a look around, expecting to find the odd person walking their dog or pushing a stroller, but she found neither.

  Instead, a car was parked some ways up the street, the glare of pale sunlight peeking through the leaves nearly concealing the man inside. But not enough.

  Uilleam.

  He refused to ever do what she wanted, but at least it didn’t come as much of a surprise this time.

  Slipping behind the wheel of her truck, she left her bag on the passenger seat as she backed out of the driveway. The townhouse and the neighborhood itself disappeared in her rearview mirror, though the car she’d noticed was about a car-length behind her.

  For a while, she wasn’t sure where she wanted to go—whether to a restaurant to grab a quick bite to eat or something that would just pass the time. Eventually, she found a spa in the heart of Manhattan that would not only give her the alone time she wanted but would also make sure her new tail wouldn’t follow her inside.

  She passed her keys off to the valet outside the building, even giving the man in the car a wave as she passed him to go inside.

  The women at the counter wore black pencil skirts, blouses made of chiffon and silk, and both looked as if they had never had a single blemish a day in their lives.

  Karina envied them that.

  “How can I help you, Miss?” the blonde on the left said with a kind smile.

  She glanced up at the aesthetically pleasing board just above their heads that listed what the spa offered. Unable to decide and not really wanting to either, she gestured to the board with an exhausted wave of her hand.

  “I’ll take everything.”

  Both of their eyebrows shot up, but the brunette recovered before her friend as understanding crossed her face. “Let’s get you set up.”

  She was led to what appeared to be a room of some sort, but the moment she walked through the doors, it felt as if she had been transported to somewhere else entirely.

  A jetted pool took up much of the floor, lotus flowers floating along the surface, lush greenery potted in heavy ceramic along the walls. With the steam billowing from the pool and the temperature of the room itself, it felt more like a luxurious retreat in the jungle.

  “First, you can change into the complimentary bathing suit and robe you’ll find through there,” she said with a point of her finger toward the sectioned off area toward the back of the room. “Afterward, Abbey will be in to apply your mask, and you’ll be free to enjoy the pool until it’s time for it to come off. Then you’ll join our masseuse in the black room.”

  “Sounds great,” she said, though she still wasn’t quite sure what all would be happening.

  But she didn’t argue or ask questions. This way, her brain could be occupied with the dozens of possibilities that awaited her other than the reason she hadn’t been sleeping well.

  As instructed, she stripped out of her clothes and folded them before placing them in a cubby, then dressed in the bikini before donning the robe and slippers.

  As the woman—whose name she had forgotten to ask for—had said, Abbey was waiting for her by the time she came back out. The feel of the cool clay on her skin was as much of a relaxant as stepping into the pool ten minutes later with a towel keeping her hair out of her face.

  For a while, it was easy to pretend that her worries began and ended with the mask on her face. For a long time, this had seemed to be her mother’s only worry, especially after John’s death. And for a long time, Karina didn’t understand fully what her mother did for a living or how she was able to provide them with a life.

  But the older she got, the better she was able to read between the lines and understand what people weren’t saying.

  Once she did, it felt like her eyes had been opened to an entirely different life.

  One, even now, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be a part of. But the farther she ran, the faster she felt her past was catching up to her—that she couldn’t possibly be the Karina of present but rather the one her mother had raised.

  Though it had only felt like a few minutes at most, by the time the masseuse had brought her into the room opposite the pool, nearly twenty minutes had passed judging from the clock.

  Karina had only just stretched out on the table, her face tucked between the cushions at the very end when the sound of heels made her frown. She was pretty sure neither of the women at the front desk had been wearing them nor had the very masculine massage therapist who had led her into this room.

  Which could only mean …

  “I already have one person having me followed everywhere I go. I didn’t think I would need to add my mother to that list.”

  As suspected, Katherine smiled as she entered the room, slipping her gloves off finger by finger. “You’re impossible to get ahold of these days. Your cell reception must be horrid.”

  Or she had been avoiding her calls as she had the tendency to do over the past year and a half. “Is it really such a surprise that I’m busy?” she asked, sitting up and reaching for her robe before she slipped it on. “Besides, I wouldn’t have thought you had time, considering you said you were here on business.”

  “And whether you like it or not,” she said before perching at the end of a chair, “you are a part of that business.”

  “Mum, I—”

  “I find it a touch inconsiderate that you’d so willingly give up everything I’ve taught you and want for you in exchange for a man you barely even know. I’m not understanding the logic.”

  No, of course she wouldn’t.

  Katherine only ever did what benefited her and nothing more. And no matter how it affected others, she did whatever she wanted.

  No, that wasn’t fair.

  Though she hadn’t always agreed with the decisions Katherine made, Karina had never wondered whether her mother loved her. In her own way, everything she had accomplished over the past two decades and what she would do in the future was always with the family in mind.

  Strengthening the family name, she liked to call it.

  Some of her accomplishments had come at unfortunate times in her life
like the night John died, or when the second husband, Philip, had gone missing, though by the time he had, she had already been deemed a Countess because of the marriage. The rest, however, she had fought tooth and nail for. Never giving up until she had what she wanted.

  Her strength and determination were admirable, even Karina was willing to admit as much, but sometimes she didn’t like the cost of what that meant.

  “I never wanted to be a part of the family business,” she said softly, in no mood to fight. Usually, she would be the first one to avoid this conversation entirely, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that now. “It has nothing to do with you, Mum. It’s me ... just me.”

  “Then explain it to me.”

  She wasn’t sure why she had chosen now to finally delve into this conversation, considering how long she had been avoiding it. Because as much as she didn’t like the idea of accepting her place beside Katherine and Isla, even she couldn’t quite put her finger on why she didn’t want to.

  It was hard to explain even to herself.

  But she still found herself asking, “You don’t think it’s wrong to manipulate people?” she asked, forcing the question out before she could change her mind. “You always taught us there was no harm in going after those who meant others harm, but what about the ones that don’t?”

  Her expression turned quizzical. “Is that what you believe Uilleam is doing?”

  “It’s not about him, Moth—”

  Before she could finish, Katherine reached into the jewel-encrusted clutch she carried, pulling out a phone that didn’t appear remarkable in any way. She knew, in some capacity, that she wouldn’t like whatever her mother thought to show her.

  She usually never did.

  But it was only once she had the device in her hand and could scroll through the images herself did she realize the full extent of why her mother had come to visit her.

  “You’re having him followed?” she asked, setting the phone aside as she stood and put on the robe, cinching the belt tight. The likelihood of her staying here was dwindling by the second.

  “Any good mother would,” Katherine said rationally. “You’re my daughter, Karina. Of course I want to make sure you’re safe, and that the man you’ve chosen for yourself is worthy of you.”

  “Isn’t it about whether I find him worthy? I don’t recall you ever asking our opinion on the men you married.”

  Pleasant smile. Gradual blink. “You and your sister were children.”

  “Yes, then. I’m not a child anymore.”

  “As you’ve been attempting to remind me for over a year now, yes, but surely if you were as wise as you believe you are, you would understand just how naïve you’re being.”

  “What is it about Uilleam that you don’t like?”

  “I don’t particularly care for him either way.”

  “Then why all of this?” she asked, losing her patience. “You were already targeting him—you told me as much. But now that I’m with him, and he poses no threat to you or your interests, you’re still attempting to break us up.”

  “I’m trying to help you, darling. I would never want to see you hurt.”

  Of course she would see it as being helpful. She could always excuse the things she did when they served a bigger purpose for her. “I love him, Mother. Why can’t that be enough?”

  She tsked beneath her breath, standing long enough to stroke Karina’s cheek before patting her face. “Sweetheart, love is never enough.”

  24

  Complications

  The day was beautiful, even if what he was about to do was anything but.

  It didn’t matter that he was tucked away, for the most part, and no one knew he was sitting there, but the thought of what he was about to do still made awareness sweep through him. Even before he perceived the sound of growling engines in the distance.

  The small Mexican town was just as deserted as it had been the last time he was here, not a soul to be found anywhere.

  Except for him … and the team of mercenaries currently awaiting his order.

  Everything was in place, ready to be executed. Now, it was just a matter of actually doing it.

  It was an odd feeling, that emotion slowly crawling its way through his chest.

  Despite everything he had done over the years—all the schemes and complicated puzzles, the constant plotting and manipulating to ensure he always remained a step ahead—this was the job, he was sure, that would change everything.

  Now, he would learn what he was truly capable of.

  Two rather large black sedans arrived one after the other, the doors swinging open moments later as the men inside stepped out. If Uilleam hadn’t known better, he would have thought an army had arrived with their bulletproof vest and combat boots, but it was the all black that set them apart.

  Colorless, countryless killers he’d had molded and shaped until they resembled what stood before him now.

  Mercenaries at their finest.

  Crackling static sounded in his ear from the mic he had there. “On your mark,” Bishop said evenly, his voice emotionless.

  Ready and willing to do whatever was asked of him.

  Uilleam turned his gaze away from the mercenaries to focus on the house looming up ahead. The very same home where he’d sat and had a coffee, letting his mind turn over innocent possibilities and indulging in a conversation he hadn’t known how it would end.

  He’d find out soon enough.

  Uilleam didn’t take his eyes off the property as he gave a nod no one could see before he said, “Take her.”

  Bishop held up two fingers, the others around him falling into line. They moved forward as one, hardly making a sound, and had there been any noise around them whatsoever, they would have been near silent.

  He tamped down the little voice in the back of his mind telling him this was wrong—that he was dangerously dangling over the line that separated him from his father—but this wouldn’t be like what he did to others.

  This wasn’t a traditional kidnapping that would end in a grisly fashion and an unmarked grave. He had plans to let her live—to know something other than the knowledge her parents had willingly paid for her to die.

  Ultimately, it would come with time.

  He knew she wouldn’t understand. Not immediately. But with time, she would grow to see that he had actually done her a favor.

  And as good as he was at what he did, he had yet to think of an explanation that sounded good even to his own ears, let alone a young girl who had been taken against her will.

  He had time.

  When his thoughts turned away from the girl and focused on his newly appointed mercenaries, the concern for what he was doing dwindled by the second as his mind turned over, and the only thing he was concerned with was seeing this done without any errors.

  They moved quickly through the house, appearing and disappearing again as they passed windows and glass planes set in the walls.

  Staring, he was almost sure, even at his distance behind a tall tree, he could hear a sharp, high-pitched scream of a frightened girl before the unmistakable sound of crashing furniture.

  He let the sound drift away because it was much too late to change anything now.

  And before long, they reappeared again, the youngest Santiago daughter hanging over one of the men’s shoulders with her hands and ankles bound.

  Seven minutes later, they were pulling back out onto that dirt road toward the airport hangar.

  Twenty-six minutes later, the trucks rolled to a stop before they were left behind in favor of the waiting jet.

  An hour later, they were well in the air, the little town all but a blip below them as they coasted high above the clouds.

  The job was done.

  Uilleam wasn’t sure if the girl had finally fallen asleep or if she had passed out from exhaustion, but from where he sat, it finally looked as if she had stopped struggling to get free, her cries gone silent.

  Seeing her now, he couldn�
�t imagine having someone snuff out her life before she’d had a chance to truly live. He couldn’t forget the sight the mercenaries had made as they entered the house with a swiftness that shouldn’t have been possible, considering the sheer size and number of them. But they had moved quietly and with effortless precision to gain access into the house.

  And now, because of them, she was here with a black bag thrown over her head, ensuring she couldn’t see anything around her or even know where they were going. Uilleam needed her unaware for the time being. It would make getting her settled in the warehouse easier.

  And the quicker he saw that done, the sooner he would be able to transport her over to the compound where Zachariah could oversee her training.

  For a moment, Uilleam’s thoughts were struck by the mental image of just what she would suffer if she wanted to become a mercenary. He’d watched men bend under the pressures of Zachariah’s teachings, but that was the only thing he could offer her. It wasn’t as if she could show her face again when he had already proclaimed to his client that he had taken care of it.

  And considering the reputation he was attempting to garner, he couldn’t let anyone think he wasn’t a man of his word.

  He’d professed that Luna Santiago was dead to the world, and until he could figure out a way around that, this was the way it needed to be.

  Skorpion kept to the back of the plane where Luna lay, wearing a troubled expression on his face. Uilleam had known, in some capacity, that he wasn’t particularly thrilled with him going along with his plans for Carmen Santiago, but he was also very much the soldier.

  Following orders and not questioning his commands.

  But while he might not have voiced his displeasure, it was still written all over his face.

  It could have been worse for her, surely? He could have had Skorpion or any one of the others shoot her in the head to ensure she died quickly and painlessly. Even if he’d dropped her off in the middle of nowhere, she wouldn’t have made it very long before she either found a way to call her parents—and learn the unfortunate truth behind her abduction—or worse.